


All Alone and A-lowly

by Simara



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Dubious Consent, M/M, Non-Consensual Use of Fear Powers, Power Dynamics, Pre-Lonely Martin, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-06-27 17:39:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19795786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Simara/pseuds/Simara
Summary: Five times Peter and Elias used their powers on each other (to various results) and the first time Martin used his (to Peter's delight).





	All Alone and A-lowly

1.

Peter wasn’t too thrilled at the prospect of having to play messenger. Sure, someone had to oversee the partnership, discuss funds and whatnot, but Peter would much rather that someone wasn’t him. The family, however, seemed to think he was long due to take over some new responsibilities. _New head of institute_ , they had told him, _great time for a few changes on our end as well_. Someone had clapped him on the shoulder, sending icy waves of Forsaken all the way down to his bones. It had reassured him, somewhat, and he’d inhaled the presence of his Patron with renewed resolve. He had a role to play, after all, and while he’d have preferred to do so among the ocean’s wild breeze, he had no right to refuse this new position. He would still get to go to sea, they assured him. It would be fine.

At least that’s what he told himself until he set foot in the institute for the first time. The second he stepped out of Forsaken, he could feel their eyes pierce him, see through him, and it took his breath away. Someone like him wasn’t meant to be seen. He instinctively tried to draw up the fog around himself, to sink back into the cold embrace of the Lonely, but it was hard to get a good grasp of it in this damned place.

“I did not see you enter.” There was an annoyed edge to the voice, barely veiling a hint of unease. “Who _are_ you?” The new Watcher looked younger than Peter had imagined but he knew from experience that appearances couldn’t always be trusted when dealing with fellow avatars. He flashed the man a predatory smile.

“Didn’t they send a memo?” The new Watcher narrowed his eyes and his glare started to bore itself into his skull, pressing, pulling – Peter had to take a step backwards. “Stop it, will you? It’s not very polite.” The man gritted his teeth and the _push_ against Peter’s mind grew more intense, more invasive, and the Watcher would have managed to slip in if Peter hadn’t launched forward and grabbed him by the shoulder.

“That’s quite enough”, he said with the illusion of perfect politeness. Forsaken embraced them like an absent lover. Peter’s grip was like iron and he didn’t allow the impertinent little Watcher to pull away, kept him pined there inside the Lonely. At first, the expression on the Watcher’s face was panicked and his fear tasted delicious but then, damned be Beholding, his face grew puzzled, intrigued.

“I cannot see.” He said, blinking. “It is…”

“Scary?” Peter offered.

“Quiet”, the Watcher concluded. “Which means that you are a Lukas, if I am not mistaken.” Peter let go, begrudgingly, and gave a mock salute.

“Captain Peter Lukas. At your service.”

“Elias Bouchard. In the future, you will make an appointment with my secretary like any other visitor. I do not value intruders. Please do not think that I will tolerate another assault. I am still coming into these powers but I assure you I will not have the Ceaseless One be mocked within these walls.”

“Not to be petty but you _did_ attempt to mind-rape me just a minute ago.” This, for some perverted reason, made the man, Bouchard, smile and Peter cursed himself for letting his eyes linger on the Watcher’s lips.

“I am afraid that’s something you will have to get used to, Mr Lukas, although I’ll be happy to negotiate a safe-word.” Peter couldn’t help but smirk.

“Kinky. I’m sure we’ll get along just fine, Elias. I can call you Elias, right?”

“I would prefer if you didn’t.”

“Splendid! Now, about the funding…”

2.

Elias Bouchard had gotten into his head. The irony wasn’t lost on him. They’d known each other for a couple of years now and had formed a certain connection against all odds. It irked Peter to acknowledge how much he was looking forward to meeting the Watcher these days. His patron didn’t look kindly on those who indulged in frivolous camaraderie and despite his best efforts, he was quite unable to turn their encounters into something to feed on. Elias all but leant into his little touches but despite the desperation and longing they usually installed in his victims, Elias just seemed to relish the moments of quiet they offered him. It would have been quite frustrating, really, if Peter hadn’t been so charmed by the strangeness of it all. Besides, he had to admit that Elias had grown on him. Hell, he even fancied him a little. Some days he considered bending the arrogant little bastard over his desk to get him out of his head once and for all. A quick fuck would do it, surely. So when he was sitting on said desk one day, watching Elias pace through the office, he was only half listening to the other man’s tirade.

“What was that, dear?” He asked once he realized that Elias expected an answer from him.

“I need to get rid of her. She is starting to turn against us, researching the Watcher’s Crown. She would never willingly participate…”

“You want to groom a new Archivist? Sounds like a tedious pet project, if you ask me. Why can’t you just have a stern talk with the old bat, set her priorities straight? You serve the same patron, after all.” Elias shook his head, cheeks almost flushed from anger despite his forcefully calm exterior.

“She threatened me. She actually dared to… She is…” Peter touched him ever so lightly on the arm.

“Hey. You’re watching her right now, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am”, Elias snapped. His eyes were unfocused, foggy.

“You’re exhausted. You need to take a break. Close your eyes, so to speak.” Elias hesitated. Peter knew him well enough by now to know that there was something else at work beneath his mask of indifference. He opened his arms with a daring smile. “Come here. I can make it all go away.”

“Can you now?” It was strange how Elias seemed to remain in total control, even as he stepped closer to Peter who was a good head taller than him. “Well, indulge me, then.” Elias sneaked an arm around Peter’s waist and buried his face in the crook of the other man’s neck. Peter could feel Elias’ heartbeat quicken as the Lonely seeped into him and blocked out all the images and voices that were the Watchers pride and burden. A quiet sigh escaped Elias’ lips as he was filled by emptiness and solitude. Peter’s smile grew self-righteous.

“See? Told you s– “ Elias bit down hard on his neck and Peter wasn’t ashamed that the noise he made in response was closer to a moan than a sound of protestation. Even here, in the lovely nothingness of Forsaken, Elias seemed keen to learn, to test, to pry open, and so he bit down again, paired with a tentative lick of his tongue. This time, Peter really moaned and tightened his grip on the Watcher. He hoisted Elias up and pushed him against what would have been an office wall if they hadn’t sunken into the fog. Their kisses were all teeth and Peter got to fuck Elias over his desk after all.

3.

Peter wasn’t a sentimental guy but he _was_ a family man and as such he had certain obligations. His family was a dynasty and they had often reminded him that being gay didn’t free him from the duty to bring some little Lukas’s into the world some day. Now that he was getting older, hair turning silver despite his best efforts, he felt the pressure even more acutely. Maybe he should give in and catch himself a trophy wife, a lonely little thing that’ll fit right in. A forsaken creature to produce an heir and a few spares, just in case. Childrearing, at least when done in the Lukas’ way, didn’t involve much parent participation so he wouldn’t have to stick around too much, even after such a marriage. But something about the prospect didn’t sit quite right with Peter. He had long had this little fantasy of a spouse to be lonely _with_ instead of one who could barely stand the sight of him. It wasn’t impossible, he had seen it done. Two avatars of Forsaken, wed in the knowledge that an hour together becomes sweeter with every day spent apart. A lover who was willing to let the Lonely penetrate their every fibre, making them shiver with desperation, sweetening each orgasm with the short-lived elevation of eternal solitude. It was a nice little fantasy and sometimes, during his weaker moments, Peter would picture Elias at his side, even though he knew quite keenly that the Watcher would scowl at him if he’d ever find out about said thought experiment.

When he entered Elias’ office that day, it had the faint smell of a new loneliness clinging to it.

“Ah. So you did get a new Archivist after all? Don’t look so surprised, I can taste them all over this place. They might as well be part of yours truly.” Elias made a dismissive noise.

“He will come into his own soon enough. Lock the door, will you? We have about 13 minutes before my secretary comes a-knocking.” He had already started to undo his tie with a businesslike expression when Peter raised an eyebrow.

“Tell me, dear, am I just a convenient fuck to clear your head?” Elias paused, eyes expressionless.

“I am all for make-believe, Peter, but I don’t think we have the time today.” Peter shrugged, dismissing whatever had made him ask the question, and started to undo his fly, when something pierced his head, broke it open.

“Elias…”, he began sharply but the Watcher had such an intrigued look on his face that Peter’s resolve wavered for just long enough to allow the other man to force his way in. He had often wondered what it would feel like to have Elias push all the way inside his mind. Peter had always refused him, shaken him off. While Elias seemed to take great pleasure in bathing himself in the sweet destitute of the Lonely, Peter couldn’t stand to feel the Ceaseless One’s gaze on him. He had sometimes wondered if it would be less unbearable, pleasurable even, if he’d let himself relax into it. Being an avatar of the Lonely, after all, had always required a little masochism.

It wasn’t anything like he had thought it might be, though. His skin was burning, boiling, and his head hurt so badly that for a second he thought Elias had used physical force to split it open. Flashes of light – no, memory – set his mind aflame and he used all the powers he could still muster to attempt and push Elias back out but it was a useless struggle. From somewhere far away he could hear Elias’ voice, both scolding and amused.

“You need to stop, Peter. You’ll hurt yourself.” Peter would have laughed if he’d been able to. He pushed back harder instead, calling his patron. All he achieved by his defiance was to make his vision blur. “Peter”, Elias again, softer now. “You need to relax. Can you do that for me?” He sounded soft, much like that one time Peter had allowed himself to be handcuffed to the bed, and something inside of Peter gave way, let go, and his futile attempts at escape came to an end. The pain didn’t stop but it became shallower, more bearable, and a thousand memories were laid out in front of him. The last time his mother had kissed his forehead before locking him into his room. The sight of his second nanny hanging by the neck from the garden shed. His first time at sea, free and alone, and oh so content. The face of his first victim, distorted by freight and tears and delicious existential dread. His father’s funeral. A brother’s suicide. Elias. Elias. Elias. Elias in his office. Elias in bed. Elias teasing him. Elias falling apart beneath him. Elias kissing him without meaning it. Elias. Elias. Elias.

“Ah. That’s… inconvenient.” The intrusion stopped abruptly and Peter fell to his knees, coughing. He only noticed that his nose was bleeding when Elias threw him a handkerchief. Peter barely noticed how he filled the office with fog, calling on his Patron to shield him from further attacks. Elias only shrugged. “No need for that. There’s nothing more for me to see.” Embarrassment and anger mixed with the remnants of pain. Peter must have looked dreadful as he straightened to his full height.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“But you wanted to know what it feels like, didn’t you? What it would be like to have me that deep inside of your head?”

“That’s not the point.” The air around them had gotten very cold. Their breath was white and foggy against the grey destitute of Forsaken. “Did you really think you would get away with that?” Elias smiled like a cat that had gotten both the cream and the canary. It was way worse than the scorn Peter had imagined him to show should he ever get as much as a peak into his head.

“What are you going to do about it? You cannot kill me, we have a truce. You _wouldn’t_ kill me. You love me.” Peter wanted to argue, to deny it outright, but what was the point? So instead he caught Elias by the throat – forcefully enough to cut off the airflow – and savoured the glimpse of doubt in Elias’ eyes before kissing him hard. He would fuck the attitude right out of his Watcher until the only thing he saw were stars.

4.

“I met your young Mr Blackwood on the way here.”

“Oh? Did you now?” He asked, as though he hadn’t seen every second of their short conversation.

“Yes. Lovely young man. I could taste the loneliness on him without even touching him.”

“I knew you would like him.”

“Then you also know that I don’t need you to groom me a treat.”

“He would make a pretty little husband, wouldn’t he? I am sure he’d clean up nicely if someone invested a little time in him for a change.”

“Elias–”, he began, warningly, but was interrupted.

“Don’t worry, I did not mean for you to steal him away, although I cannot say I would miss him much. But that is rather the point with your lot, is it not? No, I wanted you to meet Mr Blackwood because I imagine him to be the ideal person to help you adjust to your new responsibilities, once I am unavailable.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about Elias. What’s all of this gloom about? Come on, tell me. I didn’t come here to answer riddles.” Elias hesitated.

“It would be easier to show you.” Peter was tempted to laugh it off but Elias seemed quite in earnest.

“You can’t be serious. I’m not letting you into my head.” He could still vividly recall how it had felt when Elias had forced himself in and he wasn’t too keen on reliving that nightmarish memory.

“Don’t worry, that will not be necessary. Give me your hand, will you?” Peter hesitated but curiosity got the better of him. He took Elias’ smooth hand into his own callused one. Elias entwined their fingers and slowly tugged Peter closer. Finally, he put his other hand to the back of Peter’s neck and rested their foreheads together. It was as though Peter could see from a thousand eyes, all fixed on people and places he’d never seen before. He could feel Elias’s thoughts shift, refocus, and most of the eyes closed, one by one, until only a handful remained. He could see the archivist, preparing for his mission, could see assistants sneak into the tunnels beneath the archives, knew that they were plotting, planning. He could see a young woman and knew that she was set on killing Elias, would tear him apart with her bare hands if necessary. And he knew, he knew, he knew that all of them would rather see him dead at their feet than in this office. He knew, too, that there was an easy way out, albeit an unpleasant one. He could see police contacts and prison cells and knew, oh yes he knew, that this was a much safer option. When Elias let go, they were both panting. Peter opened his mouth to argue but he closed it immediately. Elias had been right. He would have put up a fight if he hadn’t seen, hadn’t _known_ first hand the reasoning behind Elias’ request. Peter ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. Well, apparently he would be leading an institute. Big fun. 

5.

Prison didn’t suit Elias. It was all too bleak and dark and dirty for a man of his calibre. As far as Peter was concerned, Elias belonged on satin sheets, not into a worn-out prison jumper. Still, even if one were to ignore the wrapping, so to speak, Elias looked dreadful. His eyes were closed but Peter could clearly see movement beneath the lids. There were dark circles underneath the Watcher’s eyes and his face looked ashen. His cheekbones seemed sharper than usual and Peter suspected that Elias had neglected food as well as sleep. “You’re exhausting yourself”, he said chidingly. Elias didn’t bother to open his eyes.

“I’ve got nothing better to do these days”, he said, gesturing vaguely at his prison cell. Peter huffed, half amused, half worried despite his best efforts.

“And what are you going to do when this body gives up on you?” Elias sounded annoyed when he answered:

“I don’t need you to mother me, Peter.” A dry laugh escaped Peter’s throat

“This isn’t exactly the welcome I expected.” He let himself sink next to Elias, making the prison cot creak softly. “I thought you’d appreciate a little conjugal visit.” Elias opened his eyes wearily. They were bloodshot and unfocused.

“You’ve spent too much time abroad, Peter. There’s no such thing in this country, especially not for an unmarried couple.”

“Well, that’s why I slipped in on the sly, isn’t it?” Elias had called them a couple and Peter couldn’t stop grinning. He leaned down and kissed the Watcher gently. Both knew that they would never be in a real relationship but that didn’t change how much they enjoyed these little moments of domesticity. Peter rested his chin on Elias’ shoulder and inhaled deeply. Elias smelled of cheap soap and sweat, no trace of his usual aftershave yet still, underneath it all, undeniably the man he knew so well. He could feel Elias’ skin vibrate as the Watcher chuckled.

“I doubt that this so called bed is up to your usual standard”, Elias remarked wryly. “There’s barely enough space for one and before you get any ideas: I do not fancy getting too close to this disgrace of a floor.” Peter’s grin turned mischievous.

“Why, love, there’s room enough to spoon.” Elias expression was priceless and Peter continued: “A nice slow fuck – that’s exactly what you need to get your mind off all the watching.” He half expected Elias to protest, to hurry him up, but when he started to snuggle up to his sometimes-lover, he barely met resistance. It only took a little help from both their patrons to blind the cameras and distract the guards long enough to make good on Peter’s promise. Compared to their usual escapades, this interlude of secret prison sex was positively vanilla, but Peter would always remember the night quite fondly. 

+1

Martin was delicious. Afraid, yes, lonely, absolutely, and yet… He had resilience, a quiet stoicism; and it delighted Peter to test just how much the lad could take. His hand would brush his assistant’s thigh or shoulder; pressing it reassuringly and making him shiver with the presence of the Lonely. For the first few weeks, Martin had still half-heartedly protested and said that all the touching wasn’t work-place appropriate but they both knew that he could hardly complain to HR about it. By now, they had gotten into a bit of a habit. Sometimes, he would lean so deeply into Martin’s personal space that he expected the younger man to jump and scurry away but Martin bore it with shaking breaths and a stone-set expression. Now and then, Martin’s resolve would weaken and Peter would feel him lean into each touch, inviting the Lonely into his throbbing heart. Peter knew how hard isolation could be in the beginning. He had seen countless nieces and nephews go through the transformation and he was making sure that Martin took it nice and slow.

One day, when he let his hand rest on Martin’s thigh, he could feel the lad shiver. A sigh, barely audible, escaped Martin’s lips and Peter felt his own heart quicken in giddy anticipation as he sensed a soft wave of _power_ come from his protégée.

“Isn’t it lovely?” He asked, squeezing the other’s leg. “Can you hear the quiet?” Martin gave him a puzzled look but then his head snapped upwards, startled.

“Yes – I – I can hear it – sing?” Peter leaned closer, brushing his lips along the younger man’s jaw line.

“Yes, that’s it dear. Do you want more?”

“I don’t think I should – I don’t think I _can_ –“ Peter cupped Martin’s face gently, helping him focus.

“Oh, I think you can take a lot more than this. Here…” He kissed him softly, breathing the Lonely into his lungs until they were filled to bursting. Martin’s body was convulsing, hands gripping onto Peter in blind panic. Peter pulled him close, shushing and whispering reassuringly.

“You’re doing so well, Martin, look at you, so strong, so lonely, that’s it, dear, breathe. Breathe.” And Martin did. The world stopped around them, covered in icy wind and thick fog. Peter stroked his hair with pride and adoration. “Well done, Martin. You’ve been just brilliant. You’re first time calling on our patron.” Martin looked around, wide eyed, overwhelmed. The praise made him feel warm and fuzzy despite the cold. All the sadness and loneliness had fallen away from him, meaningless compared to the vast nothingness of Forsaken. They were truly alone here, even though they were still standing so very close to each other. Martin felt the sudden urge to throw himself at Peter, devour him with kisses. There was longing inside of him that grew with every subtle touch and some primal knowledge inside of his head assured him that this would be a fitting sacrifice to the Lonely. And so he did kiss Peter with all the pain that had been buried inside of his chest for far too long. He kissed away the fear, the sadness, the anger and felt lonelier and lonelier with every touch. Their dance grew desperate, hands tearing at clothes. Peter’s eyes were twinkling with pride and silent amusement but Martin could tell that he too felt the icy destitute deepen by the second. And for some reason, Martin realized, neither of them seemed to mind. 

  


**Author's Note:**

> Supplemental: I may have listened to every single episode over the course of a few weeks recently. And then this happened. The title is a quote from the Mechanisms song "Lost in the Cosmos" (Yes, I've been a Mechanisms fan for years without even realizing that the Magnus Archives exist. Go ahead, call me out lmao).
> 
> Anyway. I'm @simaraknows on tumblr and y'all are very welcome to yell at me in the comments section.


End file.
